A Word from Fidel

Attention Beloved Comrade Subjects:

I am pleased to have informed my doctors that I am in stable condition and will live until 2051, or Año 92 by the new calander. I have staunched the heavy effusions of blood from my anus by dint of that same colossal will and self control which has withstood United Statesian capito-imperialist aggression for the past half century. One of my doctors presumed to differ with me, so I have stopped the flow of his blood as well. Dictating the flowing of blood is nothing new to me, whether on my streets, in my prisons, in your veins or from my rectum. Indeed, as you have all been taught in my schools, it is all the same thing to me. As I have informed you many times in my countless brief and well-organized speeches, I view the entire world as if it were contained in my anus, out of which, paradoxically, I myself view the world, as well as my self, and my anus. This is an example of the Marxist dialectic by which I have governed so wisely for your entire lifetimes. The world is, yet is not, my anus. It starts and it ends with my anus. My anus is both ends of my alimentary canal, and is its entire length as well. Several doctors and logicians once attempted to debate this with me, stating it as a medical impossibility and a logically self-invalidating proposition. My anus convinced them otherwise, and if they were still alive they would confess as much. As I was saying to my anus, the President of Venezuela, the other day, “Anus,” I said, “anus anus anus, anus anus.” Alas, my anus disagreed, so I sent it to my anus, where it is now my anus. Likewise, last month, before I decided that my anus needed to become swollen with blood, my anus the Dear Leader of North Korea and I were playing golf -- each of us scoring 18 holes in one -- and we compared notes on our anuses, my anus’s anus and my anus the Dear Leader’s anus. We discovered that not only were our anuses the same anus, butt we ourselves not only were our own anuses, butt that we were anuses. My anus Mahmud Ahmadi-Nejad, president of my anus, happened to be on hand, and as he sagely opined, “Rectum rectum, rectum rectum rectum.” After my anus translated, my anus Kim Jung-Il and my anus, which is to say myself, shared a hearty laugh. For it is so true. So very true. No matter what the language, what I am and what I have done will always as it were fill the air with the sweet-smelling vapors of my anus. Indeed, throughout the history of my anus …

[Editors' Note: Señor Castro continues in this vein for some four hundred thousand additional words, every third of which is, on average, some variant of "anus". We have omitted them for the sake of brevity, readability, on account of their general incomprehensibility, and in the name of common decency.]

…and that’s how my anus built the pyramids and created the moon. Sleep well, my little piggies, and dream, always dream, sweet dreams about my anus.

Fidel